


Autoclave

by kelopod



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:47:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelopod/pseuds/kelopod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You are the music while the music lasts.” -T. S. Eliot</p><p>Music can bring back memories, move mountains, and feel emotions no one ever could ever fathom. However, it is one's choice whether a song brings strength or pain, and whether it's worth to play the same tune or move on to a different melody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autoclave

 

 

This was hour number seven of the early morning and the cables were not yet arranged for the practice session scheduled before lunch. Nothing was arranged, actually, the lights strewn on the floor with the mic stands and the chairs still lying on their stacks in the corner. The air smelled of dust, fresh air conditioning and an indescribable sort of smell that Sollux Captor could only describe as ‘pompous’. With a quick snort he closed the door leading backstage behind him and climbed up the stairs to where the musicians usually sat. First thing he had to do was pick up and untangle the cables.

He picked up the first dark mass of heavy cables and immediately dropped them once his fingers felt something wet and sticky underneath. Looking at his slightly calloused hand, it looked like oil. What the hell did they do with these cables, slick them up in grease? Sollux wiped his dirty hand on his red t-shirt, not even giving laundry a second thought. He untangled a pair of yellow earphones from his neck and proceeded to blast music on his phone, humming along to electronic beats. It was time to get to work, and after pushing up his glasses to see clearly, he began trying to unravel the mess that were the stage’s microphone and light cables.

“So you need any help?”

Sollux looked down from where he was standing. Time had passed rather quickly; he was connecting the cables with each other and setting up the switches. His heterochromatic eyes stared the other male down. In his mind, he was processing the moment as a computer.

Messy dark-brown hair.

Vibrant eyes.

Slight sneer.

White button up shirt and dress pants.

Karkat Vantas; status: Friend. Allow non-snarky reply. “Can you really afford to waste your time, KK?” Woops. Wrong reply. He was already throwing his arms up in disbelief. As if Sollux could afford to sit and listen to his cursing and snapping.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that Captor? Here I am, first to show out of how many fucking dickmunching windblowing assholes? I’m here with open arms, I’m practically throwing my very vulnerable and delicate body all over your grease-filled shirt so you can catch me and we can proceed to dance the tango of physical labor together.” Sollux was already climbing down and straightening himself, wiping off his hands on his red shirt again. This didn’t stop Karkat. “And there we go, making yourself look even more appropriate for the part of the disease carrying mule. Are you gonna sit there gawking at your fucked up hands or are you planning on finally coming back to Earth and doing your job? We got a show to do, literally, so—DAMMIT CAPTOR!”

He had slowly walked over to Karkat and proceeded to wipe the rest of his dirty hands on the other male’s white button-up shirt’s sleeve, promptly staining it and eliciting a cry of anger from the smaller man. Sollux tried not to snicker, running his fingers through his dark hair and shoving past Karkat to grab another pile of now-untangled cables.

“C’mon KK, stop whining. You’re going to wear a tux over that shit anyway.”

“The smell STAYS on the clothing! The stain makes it look hideous and the smell stays there! And have you forgotten who I’m sitting with? I sit next to the dog version of Sherlock fucking Holmes! She won’t let me hear the end of it and by the end of the concert I’ll want to shove my head into my mouthpiece. All because YOU wanted to be a funny fucking shitsniffer!” Karkat’s hands balled up into small fists as he followed Sollux around.

“So? Just change shirts, I don’t know. Besides, clogging the mouthpiece with your head won’t keep TZ away from your face.” He set the cables on top of a chair. Staring back at Karkat, then at the still-folded chairs, he let out a sigh. “I don’t technically need your help, but if you really want to, then yeah I dunno just set out the chairs for percussion. I hate setting those up. The instruments are a real shit to deal with too.”

“Yes, saddle me with all the crapheap of work you hate to do. You’re real fucking lucky you’re my friend, you know?”

Sollux shrugged. His mouth twitched into a slight frown, wiping himself on his shirt again. “If you really want to do all the easy shit then how about you sit in front of a crowd and let Strider tell you what to do?”

The remark made Karkat stop immediately and send a stern glare at the other male, trying to shoot knives directly through those fucking stupid rimless glasses. “Yeah okay, let’s see you gain years of fucking expertise and have it all lay on the line night after goddamn shitty night, with a slobbery woman insisting on using YOUR mouthpiece, then after an anxiety-driven half-assed concert you offer to help one of your best fucking friends here and he treats you like a lackey—BUT WAIT! Not before making you feel like SHIT just because HE doesn’t have to deal with the constant bullshit of being put on display publicly and being scrutinized by experts all around the world for whatever small little one FIFTEENTH of a note you MIGHT have missed. Thank you, Sollux Captor, you officially made my life ten THOUSAND times better, do pray tell what is it that makes you so qualified to make the assumption that being judged publicly without any control from your part is so simple, especially if they’ll blame EVERYONE you care about for ONE mistake you could’ve made? I bet you’re so full of all this awe-inspiring wisdom and wit you go to the bathroom all the time just to SHIT it out through every single orifice! Yeah, clearly this is what MUST be happening, because otherwise I have NO IDEA WHAT ENTITLES YOU TO SPEAK SUCH BULLSHITTERY YOU FUCKWAD.”

Sollux just turned around, walking over to one of the piles of chairs and grabbed one of the folded up white chairs. He carried it over to the first row on the stage and opened it. “Listen if you’re seriously going to come here and yell at me for saying one fucking stupid thing– ”

“No, okay, look, I just got back from the hotel and it’s really fucking shitty, room service was a bitch and I had to pay for my own cab because this was me trying to help you out on my own free time. Just watch what you fucking say, okay? It’s not easy to be a musician, not before, not ever, and it’s especially hard to do it when you feel the pressure.”

“Yeah yeah, it must be agonizing to be admired by thousands and be known as one of the best orchestras ever. Clearly your life is filled with woe and misery; pity the Karkat, God knows when we’ll ever face such a difficult life. Bury him a saint.” Sollux raised his arms in over dramatic gestures, slowly walking over to the smaller male. They stared at each other for some time, until finally Karkat pulled back his fist and hit Sollux’s shoulder as hard as he could, making the taller man recoil back a few steps.

“You’re a douche.”

“You’re a little bitch.”

“You’re a cocksucking fuckwad.”

“You’re a whiny unintelligent nerd.”

“This coming from our tech-mule.”

“Said the asskisser.”

They continued like this for some time, exchanging insults. Nevertheless, Karkat eventually got to work, pulling out chairs and aligning them along with Sollux, setting the stands and connecting the cables needed for the show. It was grueling work for the trumpet-player, but once they had finished they both sat down on the ladder connecting them to the overhead lights, each with their own bottle of water.

 

The silence between them went on for a while until Karkat eventually spoke. “So are you still thinking about…”

“Sometimes. I mean I guess it’d be a pretty cool idea. It’d be a nice thing to do, you know?” Sollux took a quick swig of the water bottle, wiping the small beads of sweat from his forehead and rubbing his hair briskly.

“Who’d think Sollux Captor had a fucking heart? My emotional side is positively melting with compassion.”

“Okay, so maybe it’s not just for that. Maybe I just wanna get out of the rut. What’s it to you?”

Karkat shrugged and took a sip of water. “Well fuck, what if you decided to pick me? Hm? I’m more than willing to help you out if you’re gonna not be a total fucking moron about it.”

“Oh yes, Vantas is going to help.” Sollux stood, sighing and capping his bottle, pushing up his glasses on his nose. “Listen, the concert’s gonna start soon. I can do it on my own—effort appreciated here. Hell, I’m appreciating you so hard I stink with gratefulness. Smell my B.O., KK, appreciate my appreciation, and look at the thankful stink-lines emanating from me.” He grinned, raising his arms to show his armpits at Karkat, who shoved him back and nearly spilled his drink.

“Okay okay let’s quit the potentially dangerous odor-sniffing activities here. Concert’s in like three fucking hours. I’m gonna have to sit down and listen to terrible beats if I’m even one second late.” He made towards the door, stopping for one moment to glance back at Sollux. “And Sollux?”

The taller male raised his head at his name, looking at Karkat.

“Pick carefully. You’re not really into all the bullshit happening with the whole band. Spare yourself that.”

Sollux saluted, and finally dropped his hands onto his knees and staring down on the floor. Karkat left, closing the door behind him and leaving the other man to wait patiently for further instructions on background setup.

****

* * *

 

The discordant sounds of the tuning of instruments could have made the walls crumble. It was clearly the obnoxious dickweeds that composed the brass section. Perhaps they had some help from percussion. The male ran his fingers through his brown hair with his signature purple stripe. The wretched noise was getting under his skin, and if Strider didn’t do something about it soon he’d have to—

P-TOO-EE!!!!!!

The sound of a screeching piccolo resonated in his ears, giving him a lasting ringing sound in his head. He quickly turned to snap at whoever had done it, almost dropping his viola in the process.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? I’m tryin’ to tune my instrument as much as the goddamn next pathetic pile a sludge here!” His eyes would shoot fire if they could. Of course, it took him just a quick moment to realize who had been pulling his leg just to see his reaction, and he picked himself up quickly, readying his bow.

“Oh calm down would you? It’s a band! Our job is to make a ton of noise in front of people!” Her bubbly giggle felt like screeching noise in his head, her long dark hair in a ponytail bouncing along with her shoulders.

“Your _job_ is to make pleasin’sounds in front ‘a people.” His nose was slightly turned up, resting the viola on the crook of his neck as he held up his bow to begin warming up. The woman watched him, waiting for the precise moment in which the bow just gently began to glide over the string, producing a soft, long note until she piped up again.

“But Eridan, aren’t you excited? The thought of hundreds of people coming here to watch you play a silly tiny guitar? Doesn’t that make you just want to scream and play as loud as you can?”

Her eyes were honestly shimmering with excitement. Eridan, however, could not return the feeling. Much like she couldn’t return his feelings. Not as if that was worth mentioning, however. But it didn’t erase the small bit of bitterness he felt at her. Or at least he said it was her.

“It’s viola, not ‘small guitar’, it ain’t silly, an’ no, it doesn’t make me want to play as loud as I can. It makes me need to play as _best_ as I can. The loudest instrument ain’t always the most quality one, Fef. Strings set the mood; we’re practically the most important part of the orchestra, or band, as you so inanely want to call it.” He rested the viola on the crook of his neck, slowly gliding the bow over the strings once again.

“You need to lighten up. We’re supposed to enjoy this! It’s a travelling band or orchestra or _whatever_ you want to name it, but think of all the friends we’ve made and all the people excited to watch us be stupendous! It’s breathtaking!”

By now Eridan was already quite finished with the constant combined noise of both the brass section and Feferi’s rambling on about being excited over a fucking concert. There wasn’t any mosh pit or soulful cafe indie project. This was a sophisticated concert where formally dressed people attended to listen to heartfelt and graceful music. His fellow musicians had no sense of respect towards the composers. Then again, he didn’t expect any common folk to understand the concept of common decency, but at the very least he expected someone as educated as Feferi to do so.

Feferi gave one last screeching noise at Eridan before she hurried up to the front, sitting down with Kanaya and jabbering away about excitement and the like. He didn’t have time to be excited. He was much too busy being perfect. He had to be. His viola skills were top notch admittedly, but not high enough. It was never high enough. He let his bow glide gracefully over the strings of his instrument, harmonic sounds emanating from it as he played elongated notes in pairs, playing scales and moving his fingers with a sort of swiftness that could not be rivaled by any soul he ever knew. His job was to make sure his talent and skill would never be challenged.

Right as he neared the end of his warm-ups he heard three loud taps on tin, immediately glancing up. A man dressed in a black tux with sunglasses was standing, his arms raised high and out on his sides, stretching and flexing his arms while the musicians all scurried to their places. Behind the thick-rimmed glasses, Eridan’s eyes scanned the music sheet and took in a deep breath, giving the neck of his viola a quick squeeze. The curtains were withdrawn, and his eyes darted up again towards the conductor, who had promptly turned to bow at the audience. Once Dave had turned back around, he poised his arms and gave a small wave, and the musicians prepared their instruments in their respective positions. With a quick nod and a larger wave of both his arms, the symphony began to play.

 

* * *

****

The first few songs followed through beautifully, and on the back of the left stage entrance was Sollux, observing the movements of each musician. It was astounding how they all sounded so screechingly horrible earlier on, but now sounds fell through their fingers like a fountain of musical colors, each note with a life of its own and woven effortlessly into a song. His diochromatic eyes were staring at the ivory keys that John played, his foot tapping- was it tapping? No, he was pressing the pedals connected to the piano, of course. He could barely keep track of both hands as they stroked each key, increasing and decreasing the pitch. Sollux’s eyes darted around more, landing on one of his best friends. Her curly black hair was in a ponytail, her cheeks puffed out as she blew streams of air into the mouthpiece, somehow synchronizing the way her fingers pressed down on each key on the oboe with the sounds flowing from it. Her eyes were set on the paper in front of her, and on occasion she’d close them, her thick, red-mascara’d lashes brushing over her cheeks. Sollux marveled at how far she’d come since a few years ago. His eyes scanned the rest of the musicians. Everyone was perfectly in-tune.

It almost made him jealous.

He turned to glance at the strings, who now had a solo. Equius was playing somewhat nervously. To anyone else it wouldn’t be noticeable, but Sollux was closer than the audience and he could see the sweat stains forming under the man’s arms. He got a perfect view of Zahhak’s armpits once the man raised his arm to dramatically elongate a note. Nope, fuck no, time to turn away, look for someone else to stare at.

His eyes then rested on the pretentious, shit-eating Ampora. He wasn’t even looking at the paper, just letting his whole body flow with the music like a complete douche. The only guy in the whole damn orchestra that behaved in that way during concerts. But they had to hand it to Eridan; he was a superb player, and was in the process of mastering not one, not two, not three, but four instruments. The only other person that could compete with such talent was Feferi. However there was a great difference between the two; while Feferi had no qualms about chattering to Sollux while he cleaned and set her instrument, Eridan wouldn’t even swap looks with the guy, as if Ampora was better than him for knowing how to play. Which was absolutely fine, if he could avoid the sharp insults the blue-eyed shitbag would spit at him now and again.

The solo slowly came to a close and the wind section joined in, giving a soft and gentle ending to the song. It had been a long one, and his legs were tired from all the walking and rushing around he did. But the show had to go on, and he went back to the dressing rooms to make sure everything was set up and no cables would be in the way when the musicians walked backstage during the intermission.

****

* * *

****

“Great show guys. You almost didn’t completely suck.” His tux slung over his shoulder, the blonde conductor shot a grin at the musicians, who were giving a quick clean to their instruments before putting them away. Eridan huffed. Dave was always giving these inspirational speeches where he’d act like they did completely terrible, only to throw them a huge curve ball and pick them right back up again. At first he’d actually taken them to heart until he realized it was just Strider’s way to make them practice harder. What always confounded him was how he’d easily compliment them afterwards, so it made absolutely no sense to taunt them at first if he was going to backpedal in such a bloody obvious manner. Eridan loosened the tension on his bow gently, not even looking at Dave.

“Next time we gotta get up earlier to practice. It’s like we didn’t have enough time to warm up- which is insane. I mean insanity to the maximum degree. I’m talkin’ breakin’ the barriers which limit our ability to fathom whatever kind of insanity we could ever grasp in our massive brain-containing heads. It’s like there’s big, there’s huge, there’s humongous, there’s off-the-charts big, and then right beyond that there’s the insanity. People will fucking wonder ‘holy shit, when did these people warm up? Tomorrow?’ and we gotta be ready for that kind of bull.” Throughout his monologue he had been waving his arms around trying to bring some sort of imagery to the kind of enormous descriptions he was attempting to pull. No one, however, was paying attention, and the grin he had on was quickly wiped so that when he turned sharply towards Sollux, one could almost sense the annoyance he felt from being ignored.

Sollux, however, wasn’t paying too much attention either, mainly taking forever to fold up Aradia’s chair while complimenting her on her performance. She was smiling, responding positively and proposing future plans for hanging out later on as a celebration. Which was of course the wrongest thing she could’ve mentioned, as he was now to face the annoyed wrath of Strider.

“Yo, Captor!” Dave walked over to the pair, folding his tux over his arm and pushing up his sunglasses on his face.

“‘Sup?” Sollux tilted his head cooly. Aradia cleared her throat and finished packing up her oboe.

“As I was saying, it was completely insane how late we got here to warm up. Can’t happen again bro.”

“Okay, my bad, I’ll set it up earlier or something next time.” He shrugged, barely paying much attention. Sollux was sure he had set up early enough, and even had Karkat’s help.

“No man, you don’t get it. I mean next time forget about the cable bullshit and get going on the chairs and stands, because we need those set up first to practice. Or wake up earlier. I’m dead goddamn serious here. We’re supposed to be professionals and it’s tough enough being a conductor without worrying if my musicians are ready to play.”

“I already said I’d do it.” His face contorted into annoyance now. Damn, his mood was catching.

“Yeah so I’ve heard. I’m not kidding here Captor, unless you don’t want a next time, I suggest y’all step it up.” Dave didn’t bother to say another word, and walked away. Sollux glared after him. The little shit. Who did he think he was?

“I thuggetht _y’aaaawwwll_ thtep it uuuuup. Little bitch.” He grumbled and mocked Dave’s slightly southern accent, folding more chairs harshly. He let them drop onto the hardwood floor of the stage with a _blam_ that resonated around the entire place. Of course no one would fucking notice he stayed late taking care of all the bullshit so they could stay and play, damned underappreciative nutcases. Honestly, he could’ve been anywhere else in the world, he could’ve been taking care of his family, but no, he decided to be the orchestra’s tech mule and get all the bullshit jobs. Of course he was almost glad it meant barely having contact with any of the actual members, but goddamn they were all little whiny shits.

Sollux made it to the strings section while folding up chairs, and saw the harp. The harp. Oh my fucking god that cocksucking shitfingered Equius broke another harp string with his uncontrollable steroid infested hands. Which meant he had to stay and switch the strings on it again, and he was so goddamn tired of that. After every concert the guy would break a bow or string and Sollux would always have to stay behind and fix it before they packed up again. If it wasn’t for Aradia’s goddamn fondness for the guy... Eugh. That was one romantic drama he did not approve of, nor did he want to be involved in it. Then again there was also the matter of Karkat completely denying his undying love for his trumpet partner, and then Gamzee’s relation to them was a whole ‘nother can of worms he was not keen on opening. Vantas was right; the last thing he wanted to do was get involved in any band drama.

Who even knew band geeks had drama?

He let out an exhausted sigh. He was so goddamn finished with this band, and yet, he wasn’t going to give up so easily. He had friends here, friends that mattered. With that in mind, Sollux walked behind the harp and gave a large heave, lifting it up. So far so good. He closed his eyes and let out a small breath of relief, which was enough to unbalance him and make him sway with the instrument. Fuck no fuck no fuck no he was about go drop it he was going to fall and it would break oh god _damn_ he didn’t need this right now--

“Woah there!” Karkat gripped the harp upright, holding it close to Sollux. “Fuck’s sake Captor would it kill you to ask for help?”

“KK--” He stopped himself from thanking the man and let out a scoff. “Please, if I wanted help I sure as hell wouldn’t go to anyone from the orchestra for it. Lug it over there, I gotta change the string.”

“You know you need one of us anyway, right?” He grunted as they both stepped over to the right stage exit, setting it down carefully. “If you want to learn how to play anything. You sure as hell aren’t going to ask Lord Fucknuts the Strider for help, that’s for certain.”

Sollux stroked the harp quickly with his fingers, leaning down to start unwinding the broken string. “Yeah no shit.”

“Have you picked the poor unfortunate soul yet?” Karkat opened one of the folded chairs and sat, looking at his friend. “Or hell, an instrument at the very least?”

Sollux was actually quite relieved to know the other male hadn’t noticed him staring at each instrument while they played, particularly the piano. He had already discarded the idea of playing anything that required his mouth, the idea of having his tongue lap at brass and copper and plastic did not appeal him in any way. “Definitely not the trumpet.”

“Listen I don’t care if you feel like trying out the steel drum. But like I said, with your schedule so tight, you can’t afford to be self taught. C’mon, you got like over a dozen people to pick from to teach you everything they ever know about more than fifteen instruments. What’s stopping you?”

Sollux pulled out the broken string slowly, stretching it in his hand. He hesitated to answer. Eventually he broke the silence. “I don’t know.” He glanced back at Karkat. “I’ll tell you who I’ll ask later, alright? You can work your whole weird friendship magic on them and they’ll say no and then we can move on from this topic forever.” He stood to unwind the other half of the string.


End file.
